


the city of love

by trishapocalypse



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 22:18:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trishapocalypse/pseuds/trishapocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three months, before the UK tour, before he was recording in LA, before he was able to trick himself into thinking that he didn't miss Nick. But he did. He missed him every day. And now here he was in bloody Paris, running into Nick fucking Grimshaw, and he couldn't believe it.</p><p>(Or, Harry runs into Nick in Paris and bathroom sex ensues. Because why not?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	the city of love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pastlives](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastlives/gifts).



> This was written at one am (because everything seems like a good idea at one am) for Tari and Sam. The idea is Sam's and I pretty much just write whatever Tari tells me to. Inspired by [this picture](http://24.media.tumblr.com/2f55c540b7013f034fd7f9ae81f7818e/tumblr_mlzhe0gN9G1qhuf2po1_500.png) of Hazza looking positively pornographic. Hastily beta'd by me, all mistakes are mine, and I think it goes without saying that this never happened. (Or, if it did, we can't prove it? So there's always that.) Enjoy!
> 
> tumblr: @trishanthemum :)

"Nick."

The name fell from Harry's lips, familiar and odd at the same time. He hadn't seen Nick in ages, almost long enough for him to forget about their last encounter. Only, that was a lie, because he would never forget the way Nick had him bent over the back of the couch, one hand pressed against his lower back and holding him down, fucking him hard, deep, rough, in all the ways Harry loved. No, he couldn't forget that, didn't want to.

But that had been three months earlier. Three months, before the UK tour, before he was recording in LA, before he was able to trick himself into thinking that he didn't miss Nick. But he did. He missed him every day. And now here he was in bloody Paris, running into Nick fucking Grimshaw, and he couldn't believe it.

"What are you doing in Paris?" Harry asked, surprised when his voice remained level and calm. He spared a glance over at Cal who, over the time he worked with Harry had perfected the art of acting like he wasn't paying attention.

"Holiday with Aimee, last minute," Nick said. "And you, pop star?"

Harry felt a heat rising on the back of his neck and he shrugged. "Living the pop star life, I suppose," he said.

"Shame, that," Nick commented. "Makes it awful hard to get time alone with you."

Harry gulped and, well, shit. Because Nick was looking at him with a glint in his hazel-green eyes, and Harry had seen that glint before. The last time was minutes before Nick practicality dragged him out of the restaurant in London, took him to his flat, and proceeded to shag him until he couldn't walk. And, Christ, the thought of that happening again had Harry's heart racing.

"What's your schedule like?" Nick asked, dragging his sunglasses back over his eyes.

Harry didn't respond, he couldn't. He was focused on the way that Nick licked his lips, the way his eyes never left Harry's and, fuck, he was gone.

Nick grinned and looked over at Cal. "Cal, darling, what's little Harold's schedule like for the day? Any chance he could catch up with an old mate?"

Cal looked over at Harry and hesitated. "Give us a minute, yeah?"

"Of course. Take all the time you need. I'll be waiting," Nick said, sending Harry a wink before he backed away.

"You all right, Harry?"

Harry nodded, reaching up to remove his indigo beanie, ruffling up his curls before sliding the hat back on. "I had no idea he would be here," he muttered. "Haven't seen him in months."

"I can come up with an excuse—"

"No," Harry said quickly. "I want to—I haven't seen him in months," he repeated. "We'll just get, like, food or something?"

Cal nodded slowly. "I'm not supposed to leave you alone, Harry... After what happened in the airport? I just don't think it's a good idea..."

"One meal," Harry said. "We'll be all right. I'll come straight to the hotel after, I promise."

"Don't go further than one block from the hotel. And if I call and you don't answer by the third ring, I'm coming after you, all right? I'm not risking anything happening to you because you want a shag," Cal told him with a smile on his face.

Harry bit his lip because, fuck, that was exactly what he had in mind, and curse Cal for knowing him so bloody well. He nodded anyway and turned back towards Nick, catching his attention from where he had been messing with his mobile.

"You make a decision yet, pop star?" Nick asked.

"One meal, no further than one block from the hotel, and he better be back in two hours," Cal said sternly. "That's all I can do."

"Two hours is plenty of time, isn't it, Harold?" Nick asked.

Harry swallowed because he knew what that grin meant and, fuck, he was out in public with Nick and all he wanted was some privacy. "Two hours is good," he replied with a short nod.

"Brilliant. I'll try to bring him back in one piece," Nick teased before throwing an arm around Harry's shoulder and leading him away from Cal.

Harry didn't get nervous often, but walking the streets of Paris with Nick Grimshaw definitely put him on edge. Nick was rambling about something or other that was happening at the station and Harry honestly couldn't care less. He was well aware of Nick's intentions and he wasn't in the mood to keep up a facade—he just wanted to be fucked.

"Where do you want to eat, young Harold?" Nick asked.

"I don't care," Harry told him with a shrug.

Nick pouted. "Come now, that's not fair. You've got to be in the mood for something."

"I'm in the mood for you," Harry told him brazenly, eyeing him from under his lashes.

The corner of Nick's lips twitched. "My, my, Harry, aren't you a brash little thing? What happened since the last time I saw you?"

"Couldn't stop thinking about you," he admitted, his voice low. Anyone else would have Harry feeling like a fool for admitting that, but Nick... Nick was different.

Nick grinned and grabbed Harry's elbow, leading him into the closest restaurant. Harry didn't know what it was called, didn't even care, because he wasn't hungry, and he just wanted Nick. He had never wanted quite like that in his life, and it was terrifying and exhilarating and he was on edge. Nick ordered them some sort of wine as he climbed into the circular booth and Harry followed, pressing himself against Nick's side. "Easy there, pop star. We might be in the City of Love but someone is bound to recognize you, even with your curls covered up," he warned.

And he was right, Harry knew he was right, but he just wanted to touch him. He reached over and rested his hand on Nick's thigh; he was thankful the tablecloth hid his hand and he squeezed lightly.

Nick swallowed heavily, taking a drink of his water. "Watch the hands. I was hoping to get through at least the hor d’oeuvres before dragging you off to the loo and snogging you properly."

Harry's green eyes widened and he smiled. "Just the hor d’oeuvres? I'm pretty sure we could sneak off now," he told him. "No one would notice."

"I'm sure someone would," Nick said, thanking the waiter who appeared and poured their wine. "Drink up, Harold."

Harry rolled his eyes but did as he was told. The wine didn't even curb his nerves, not that he was expecting it to, and he returned his hand to Nick's thigh, tracing patterns into the fabric of his jeans. He felt him tense under his hand and he smiled. "What if we skip out now? I'm sure the loo is empty. We can lock the door behind us and pretend like we have some privacy," he said softly, his eyes never leaving Nick's.

"You're a little minx, aren't you?" Nick asked, sliding his hand into Harry's lap and gripping him through his jeans. "Walking around in that outfit should be illegal," he said softly, leaning in to where he was whispering in Harry's ear. "Can you even fit pants on under those jeans?"

"Wanna find out?"

Nick pulled back and licked his lips. He sent Harry a once over and, fuck, he did want to find out. He wanted to find out if he was wearing anything underneath, he hoped he wasn't, and he wanted to find out if it was possible to keep Harry silent when he came. Because from their precious encounter, he knew Harry was vocal, loud in a way that made his voice even deeper and could potentially ruin any live show that he had coming up. And, Christ, just the thought of having to order Harry to be silent while Nick fucked him was enough to convince Nick that they really didn't _need_ to wait until after the hor d’ oeuvres to sneak off to the loo.

"Follow me, pop star," Nick said as he stood up from the table. He avoided eye contact with everyone and prayed no one noticed the state that he and Harry were in as they walked towards the loo at the back of the restaurant. Nick was relieved to see the loo was empty and he locked the door the second Harry stepped through. He pushed Harry up against the door, smashing their lips together.

Harry instantly wrapped his arms around Nick's neck as he moaned and yes, yes, this was exactly what he wanted. Nick grabbed his hips roughly, pinning him to the door, as he slid his tongue across Harry's lips. Harry gasped, eagerly sucking on Nick's tongue while his hands tangled in his hair.

"Careful with the hair, love," he whispered against Harry's lips before pulling away entirely. He tugged at Harry's belt, undoing his trousers and— "Christ, you weren't kidding."

Harry smiled widely as Nick tugged his trousers down his legs. "Like what ya see?" he asked shyly.

Nick cursed and surged forward, capturing Harry's lips with his own. He pinned him against the door again, sliding a hand between their bodies to undo his own trousers, pushing them far enough down his hips to where he could rub his cock against Harry's. Harry moaned, pressing his hips closer to Nick's, wrapping his arms around Nick's waist in an attempt to bring him closer, to get a little bit of friction.

Nick pulled away, lips red and cheeks flushed, and he looked down. "I had this marvelous plan of holding you against the door and fucking you, but it looks like we're gonna have to go with plan B," he said with a shake of his head.

"I swear, Nick, if you don't fuck me—"

Nick laughed, pressing a chaste kiss to Harry's lips. "No need to get violent, love. Turn around and bend over, brace yourself on the door," he instructed.

Harry nodded and did as he was told, spreading his legs as far apart as he could with his jeans still on, and he pressed his palms flat against the door.

Nick grinned to himself. Harry was always so eager and responsive, doing whatever Nick asked without a second thought and, fuck, was that perfect. Nick sank to his knees behind Harry, running his hands up the back of his thighs. Harry twitched and Nick heard a small gasp leave his lips. He pushed Harry's shirt further up his back and pressed a kiss to the base of his spine.

"Jesus, Nick, just get to it already," Harry said impatiently, pushing back against him.

Nick swatted him lightly, surprised when Harry moaned and that—that was something he could get on board with. Of course it would have to wait because he was pretty sure it was a bad idea to spank someone in public. He pressed his palms flat against Harry's arse, spreading his cheeks, and running his tongue slowly between them. Harry choked back a noise that might've been a sob and Nick was sure he had never been so hard in his life. He pressed his tongue deeper, past Harry's entrance, and he slid a finger in next to his tongue. Harry didn't hold back a sob this time; sounding broken already, just from a tongue and one finger up his arse, and Nick loved it. He fucked Harry with his tongue slowly, another finger joining, and he loved the way Harry eagerly pressed back against him, as if he was trying to ride his face, broken sobs falling from his lips.

"Nick, please, fuck, I'm gonna come, I'm—"

Nick pulled away, pressing a light kiss to Harry's entrance before shuffling through his back pocket to find a condom. He rolled it on quickly before standing up, pressing himself against Harry. "You gotta be quiet, love. Think you can do that?" he asked.

Harry nodded, cursing. "Fuck, Nick, just do it, Christ."

"Since you asked so nicely," he muttered, grabbing the base of his cock and pressing the tip to Harry's entrance.

Harry whined, pushing back against him.

Nick grabbed his hip with one hand, holding him still before sliding in fully in one thrust.

Harry wished there was a way he could hold on tighter to the door, fingertips struggling to find something to grip as Nick started thrusting into him.

Nick held into Harry's hips tightly, knowing he was going to leave bruises on the pale skin there and wished he would be around in a few days to witness them, maybe even press against them a little bit more, knowing Harry would hiss in pain but enjoy it, the bastard. Nick was already close, almost embarrassingly so, and he fucked Harry faster. Judging by the moans that were leaving Harry's lips, he wasn't that far off either. Nick set his hand at the base of Harry's spine, pushing him down a little bit more, changing the angle as he thrust faster, hitting his spot every time.

"Nick, please," Harry whimpered, arms giving out.

Nick wrapped an arm around his chest instantly, pushing him up against the door so he didn't fall down. He slid his hand down Harry's chest, gripping his cock, and it only took one, two, three strokes before he came on the door and Nick's hand, a silent gasp falling from his lips. Nick thrust into Harry's pliant body two more times before he came himself, Harry's name on his lips.

Harry laughed against the door as Nick pulled out of him, tossing the condom into the waste bucket.

Nick reached down, pulling up his own trousers before doing the same with Harry's jeans. He got a wad of paper towels and wet it down before cleaning Harry's chest and then his own. He tossed the paper towels into the waste bucket before meeting Harry's eyes.

"Still can't believe I run into you in Paris of all places," Harry said softly, his green eyes wide and cheeks still flushed.

"The City of Love, Harold. It must've been fate," he joked.

Harry smiled, ruffling the curls at the base of his neck.

Nick grinned. "Next time, let's not wait three months, yeah?"

Harry nodded immediately. "Definitely."


End file.
